saw what happened when you told your stupid-ass parents. This mess is nobody’s business.” If word got out that he’d knocked up the poster child for the purity pioneers, his life would be over.
Frustrated by Nick’s failure to focus on the actual problem of what to do right now, Grace let out a small shriek of exasperation. Although his reaction was not surprising, she had hoped for something different. But she could be tough if that’s what was called for. “Don’t worry, I won’t tell another soul you’re the father. I’d sooner die than have anyone know what I let you do to me in the back of your shitty car. But right now, we’ve got bigger worries than who’s privy to our dirty little secret. We both screwed up in a big way eight weeks ago, and I need to figure out what to do
today
. You need to help me. It’s
your
baby, too.”
Nick flinched at the words “your baby.” He lay back on the warm, wet wood and stared directly into the sun. The white light burned his retinas, but he refused to blink. Athletic scholarships and hot girls who spread their legs when he smiled at them were no longer a given. This was really happening, and for the first time in his life, Nick Salter felt like a total loser.
CHAPTER 5
It was still dark outside when Grace’s mother shook her awake on the Friday before Labor Day weekend. “Get up. Get dressed.” Her voice was stern, but at least Betsy was speaking to her. Those were the first four words either of her parents had addressed directly to her since the night she’d confessed to her terrible crime.
“Mom? What’s going on?”
The strain of her parents’ hostility and the needs of the baby growing inside of her were a draining combination, and sleep was Grace’s only escape. If the sound of a car backfiring or a door slamming didn’t wake her, she could sleep fifteen hours at a stretch. At four in the morning, she was nowhere near ready to face the day.
Not providing any information, just standing in the doorway watching as Grace dressed quickly and quietly, Betsy yawned and looked at her watch. Wherever they were going, Grace thought, her mother was in a hurry. Betsy examined Grace’s profile in the light from the hall, trying to see if her belly was starting to stick out. It was hard to believe there was really a baby in there: her own flesh and blood, her grandchild. Nausea gripped her, and she turned away.
In the car, Betsy flipped to a new radio station and turned it up loud. Silence invited conversation, and Betsy had nothing to say to the person sitting next to her. In the few seconds it had taken for Grace to tell her parents what she had done, she had become a stranger in her mother’s eyes. It was a surprise even to Betsy that she could so easily relinquish her maternal instinct. The bond between mother and child should have been much stronger than that, but Betsy had no control over what she was feeling. As much as she longed to feel loving and protective toward Grace, who was curled up in a ball in the front seat, practically glued to the passenger door, instead she felt only rage and betrayal. It was clear that the daughter was afraid of the mother, and though Betsy was sorry her daughter felt that way, she couldn’t bring herself to reach across the front seat and still her daughter’s shivering shoulders. It would have been like reaching across the Grand Canyon.
For three hours they drove, across the Connecticut state line and into the heart of Massachusetts. If not for the annoyingly enthusiastic deejays on an endlessly changing stream of radio stations, Grace would have had no idea where they were, as she had not opened her eyes once since the mystery road trip had begun. The car sped along, and the only thing Grace knew was that she was being taken farther and farther away from anything familiar. Afraid that her mother was going to drop her off at some home for unwed mothers, Grace wept silently. As terrible as it was living with the
Frustrated by Nick’s failure to focus on the actual problem of what to do right now, Grace let out a small shriek of exasperation. Although his reaction was not surprising, she had hoped for something different. But she could be tough if that’s what was called for. “Don’t worry, I won’t tell another soul you’re the father. I’d sooner die than have anyone know what I let you do to me in the back of your shitty car. But right now, we’ve got bigger worries than who’s privy to our dirty little secret. We both screwed up in a big way eight weeks ago, and I need to figure out what to do
today
. You need to help me. It’s
your
baby, too.”
Nick flinched at the words “your baby.” He lay back on the warm, wet wood and stared directly into the sun. The white light burned his retinas, but he refused to blink. Athletic scholarships and hot girls who spread their legs when he smiled at them were no longer a given. This was really happening, and for the first time in his life, Nick Salter felt like a total loser.
CHAPTER 5
It was still dark outside when Grace’s mother shook her awake on the Friday before Labor Day weekend. “Get up. Get dressed.” Her voice was stern, but at least Betsy was speaking to her. Those were the first four words either of her parents had addressed directly to her since the night she’d confessed to her terrible crime.
“Mom? What’s going on?”
The strain of her parents’ hostility and the needs of the baby growing inside of her were a draining combination, and sleep was Grace’s only escape. If the sound of a car backfiring or a door slamming didn’t wake her, she could sleep fifteen hours at a stretch. At four in the morning, she was nowhere near ready to face the day.
Not providing any information, just standing in the doorway watching as Grace dressed quickly and quietly, Betsy yawned and looked at her watch. Wherever they were going, Grace thought, her mother was in a hurry. Betsy examined Grace’s profile in the light from the hall, trying to see if her belly was starting to stick out. It was hard to believe there was really a baby in there: her own flesh and blood, her grandchild. Nausea gripped her, and she turned away.
In the car, Betsy flipped to a new radio station and turned it up loud. Silence invited conversation, and Betsy had nothing to say to the person sitting next to her. In the few seconds it had taken for Grace to tell her parents what she had done, she had become a stranger in her mother’s eyes. It was a surprise even to Betsy that she could so easily relinquish her maternal instinct. The bond between mother and child should have been much stronger than that, but Betsy had no control over what she was feeling. As much as she longed to feel loving and protective toward Grace, who was curled up in a ball in the front seat, practically glued to the passenger door, instead she felt only rage and betrayal. It was clear that the daughter was afraid of the mother, and though Betsy was sorry her daughter felt that way, she couldn’t bring herself to reach across the front seat and still her daughter’s shivering shoulders. It would have been like reaching across the Grand Canyon.
For three hours they drove, across the Connecticut state line and into the heart of Massachusetts. If not for the annoyingly enthusiastic deejays on an endlessly changing stream of radio stations, Grace would have had no idea where they were, as she had not opened her eyes once since the mystery road trip had begun. The car sped along, and the only thing Grace knew was that she was being taken farther and farther away from anything familiar. Afraid that her mother was going to drop her off at some home for unwed mothers, Grace wept silently. As terrible as it was living with the
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